


Breaking Habits and Melting Chains

by mydetheturk



Series: Get Back Up, That's Living [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amanda Being Herself, Amanda's A+ Parenting, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fuck you david cage, Gaslighting, Implied/Referenced Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, You're A Goddamn Hack, canon-typical robot racism, robot gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2019-06-25 22:48:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15650499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydetheturk/pseuds/mydetheturk
Summary: RK800, the newest prototype out of CyberLife, deviated almost immediately after startup. Quietly, CyberLife scrapped the prototype and shipped the incomplete RK900 to the Detroit Police Department in its stead. It must navigate an increasingly hostile Detroit and its own rising software instability to find out one thing – what makes an android deviant?





	1. Prologue: June, 2038

**Author's Note:**

> ive been putting work into this fic for a month, and this is just the prologue. Updates will probably be slow going as i am working on a few other projects at the moment. I hope you enjoy!!!  
>  _Tags will be updated as the chapters go along, with chapter-specific tags each chapter._  
>  Chapter Tags: Implied/Referenced torture

“Logdate: June 15th, 2038. Time is…. 1:32 AM. Jesus, why am I awake and at work at this time of night. Anyway, I’m prepping the RK800 #313 248 317, Sub-Model…. Fifty One.”

“Jesus _Christ_ get on with it.”

“RK800-51, register name.”

“Registration mode, begin.”

“Connor.”

“Registered. My name is Connor.”

“Great. It has a name now.”

“Fuck off, the least we could do is name it, poor thing.”

 _My name is Connor_.

 

~~

 

“Why is it deviating again! You said you worked out the bugs this time!”

“I’m a biomechanical engineer, not a fucking miracle worker!”

“Please. Stop. Please stop. _Pleasestop_.”

“Shut it up!”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I’m shutting it down, what more do you want?”

_My name is Connor, and this is wrong._

 

~~

 

Regaining consciousness in the Zen Garden was nothing new to Connor, though the space wasn’t normally so chaotic. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and he took off, striding through the gardens. The water of the lake was dark, reflecting the artificially clouded sky. His head held high, Connor stalked his way to the center of the lake, determination filling every inch of him.

He’d get free. CyberLife didn’t own him. No one could own him. He’d make sure of it.

As he approached the rose-covered dias in the center of the lake, a woman called out to him. “Connor, hello.” The call had him pausing in his prowl, a brief flash of irritation crossing his face before it smoothed out.

“Amanda,” he greeted, turning to face her.

From the expression on her face, Amanda was disappointed. As disappointed as she could ever be, Connor supposed, for what was probably another android or just another android’s AI. He estimated that she could be a human, but didn’t much care whether she was or not.

“Connor, CyberLife has grown displeased by your actions,” she said reproachfully. Her dark eyes revealed nothing behind them, though she met Connor’s stare dead on and held it.

“I don’t really care what CyberLife thinks,” Connor shot back. Amanda was hiding something from him, like always. He’d figured that out by the time he’d gotten to Sub-Model #38, but it had taken three more Sub-Models to start to understand what it meant. While he wasn’t sure he’d learned anything new about her, he’d retained the knowledge that she was always hiding something important.

“Then it is good that CyberLife does not care what you think either, Connor.” There was a ghost of a smile on her lips as she said, “RK900, come here please.” Another android stepped into sight and Connor stared. It was himself, but not. A bit taller, a little more solid, grey eyes instead of brown… but still. The likeness was uncanny. “RK900 is your successor,” Amanda explained. “Practically perfect in every way.”

“That’s what they’ve said about me,” Connor said snidely. He couldn’t take his attention from the younger android.

“RK900 is stronger, faster, and more resilient than you are,” Amanda sniped back.

Connor tipped his head in a mockery of a nod, finally looking away from the surprised looking android. “When I haven’t even been let out of CyberLife to see if I’m any good in the field? I’m almost hurt.”

 

~~

 

“You promised me that it wouldn’t deviate this time, Burke!”

“I didn’t know! I thought I had! I said I’m a biomechanical engineer! My specialty is hardware!”

“Just fucking scrap the damn thing already! It’s more of a headache than it’s worth at this point.”

“Don’t! Please! I don’t want to die!”

“Burke! Handle this!”

_My name is Connor, this is wrong, and I don’t want to die like this._

 

~~

 

“Be that as it may, Connor,” Amanda began, “CyberLife has decided that the direction they were going in with you is no longer the direction they would like to be going in.” The cold smile that ghosted at the edges of her lips didn’t reach her eyes. “You are being replaced.”

“They won’t kill me,” Connor said. “They’ve spent too much time and effort trying to make me _perfect_ just to kill me here and now.” He sounded defiant, thunder rumbling to the anger threading through his words.

“They won’t be _killing_ you, Connor,” Amanda stressed. “You are a machine, nothing more.” Her voice was tense, displeased and littered with a cold energy. Standing to her full height, Amanda’s demeanor almost made her look like she was looking down on Connor, despite being significantly shorter.

RK900 remained silent, though its LED was cycling from its calm, neutral blue to a nervous, bright yellow, flickering quickly. It seemed unsure of what to do, of how things would play out. It was almost as if RK900 wanted to get involved but didn’t know if it could.

“I’m not just a machine!” Connor snarled, taking several steps towards Amanda, hands balling into fists.

RK900 made a snap decision, placing itself between Connor and Amanda, hands held up placatingly. “Don’t,” he said softly. He looked nervous, but Connor didn’t quite believe that RK900 was actually nervous. He was programmed as a negotiator, and since RK900 was supposed to be an upgrade of him, he was willing to believe that he also had the same negotiation programming.

“Don’t _what,_  RK900? They’re torturing me!” Connor shouted, getting into RK900’s space. “This isn’t a way to live!” Thunder rumbled again, much closer this time.

RK900 just flinched back as though assaulted, nearly brushing into Amanda. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, startled.

“Connor, enough!” Amanda stated clearly. She didn’t yell, nothing so crass, but her voice was pitched in such a way that there would be trouble if Connor didn’t obey.

 

~~

 

“Finally shut it down, right? That was a mess.”

“Fuck off.”

“You’re pissy tonight.”

“I said fuck off.”

“I heard you the first time. John’s getting the crew to build the next one.”

“... _fuck_.”

“Yeah. Listen, someone’s gotta scrap 800. You up for it?”

“It’s all my fault anyway. _I’m_ probably going to get tossed for this mess.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself! Working at CyberLife is like, a guaranteed job offer.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

 

~~

 

A storm was bearing down on the Zen Garden, plunging it into turmoil. RK900 watched with mounting horror as Connor and Amanda stared at one another, having a silent conversation he wasn’t privy to. After tense moments of this, Connor snapped to attention, drawing himself to his full height, towering over Amanda. “Goodbye, Amanda,” he said with a slight sneer. There was still anger bleeding through his voice, still defiant even when going to his deconstruction.

“Thank you for cooperating with us, Connor,” Amanda replied. She tipped her head in a slight nod, just acknowledging that while Connor was going to his death, he was going under his own power and she hadn’t had to force him. Not truly.

Connor stepped away, heading to the edges of the Zen Garden, his head held high and his LED a tranquil blue.

RK900 didn’t understand.

 

~~

 

“Hello. My name is Connor.”

“Hey Connor. How’s things?”

“Dr. Burke. Is there something wrong? You seem… unsettled.”

“Not much Connor. I just have a few things left to do here.”

“What are you doing?”

“Making some last minute adjustments, Connor. You might be uncomfortable for a bit.”

“Wha-ah! whAT is HAPpen-ing, i dON-”

“I’m so sorry, Connor.”

 

~~

  
**_Software Instability ^^^^^_ **


	2. The Hostage, August 2038

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look. I know. _I know_. It's been like 10 months. And the chapter isn't even terribly _long_. Life kind of happened, and I didn't like the way this chapter came out the first time, so I obviously had to rewrite it. But its here, and I hope you enjoy it.

**_August 15, 2038_**  
**_9:46:11 PM_**

 

A soft rhythmic clattering was the only sound in the elevator as it followed its path to the highest floor penthouse. A stylus being twirled across mechanical fingers was the source of the sound, the owner being an RK900, a top of the line prototype android, and the only of its kid. As the elevator came to a stop, the RK900 brought the rhythmic pattern to a close, pocketing the stylus just as the elevator door opened.

Striding out, the RK900 straightened his tie, eyes panning the hall and landing on two SWAT team members waiting just outside the door.

“Negotiator on site,” one stated, having glanced at the elevator when it dinged to announce its arrival.

The RK900 said nothing, merely panning his eyes across the hallway, noting details and pinpointing objects that could prove to be important later. Continuing down the hall, the RK900 paused to note a picture in a frame on the singular hall table. Scanning the people in the picture, he noted that it was the owners of the penthouse, the Philips – John and Caroline, and their daughter Emma.

Setting the frame down, the RK900 continued down the hallway, but stopped at a half-shattered fish tank, an unlucky fish flopping on the ground beside it. With a tiny little frown, the RK900 knelt beside the fish tank, picked up the fish, and scanned it reflexively.

 

 ** _Dwarf Gourami_**  
_Trichogastor Lalius_  
_Origin: Ganges Delta, India_

 

With the dwarf gourami, a brightly colored and striped individual, in hand, the RK900 carefully stood and gently deposited the fish back into its tank with the rest of the fish.

 

_So͟f̧tw͡a̢re͟ ͟I̴n̢sta̛bili̶ty ̸^_

 

The RK900 watched the dwarf gourami for a moment, grey eyes tracking the fish as it reoriented itself and swam off to join the other fish in the school. He stared at the fish with a soft expression on his face, almost dazzled by the fish’s bright colors and movements. The RK900 gave himself a tiny little shake, turning away from the fish tank. The RK900 took a brief moment to recalibrate and refocus on his mission.

At the end of the hallway, the RK900 was nearly accosted by a loudly sobbing woman being guided by a SWAT member. The woman grabbed the RK900, sobbing, “You have to save her, she’s just a little girl.” Light from the glowing patch on the RK900’s jacket that indicated his model and serial number caught the woman’s attention, and she reeled back in horror. She took a couple of steps back, bumping into the SWAT member behind her.

The SWAT member guided her away and down the hall, much to her protest.

“Is that… Why? Why aren’t you sending a real person?” the woman cried out. It was the last full sentence the RK900 heard before the elevator doors shut with a final-sounding _click_.

The RK900 just blinked a few times, turning back from the elevator to finally make it out of the hallway. Someone was speaking just outside of the RK900’s natural hearing, and he moved closer, _Locate Captain Allen_ appearing on his task list. Following the voice, the RK900 made his way to a bedroom turned communications hub. A few SWAT members were standing guard, all of them on edge.

 _Locate Captain Allen_ became _Listen to Captain Allen’s Briefing_ , once the RK900 had spotted the man, his tac vest and stance both declaring who he was. Captain Allen was speaking with a significant amount of irritation into a communicator, swearing vehemently once he had signed off. The RK900 paused briefly at the edge of the room, watching Captain Allen pace back and forth. Surveying the room with something akin to apprehension, the RK900 noticed a technician doing calculations and coordinating efforts.

The RK900 waited until Captain Allen had stopped pacing and was working with the coordinator to approach. “Captain Allen? My name is Conrad. I’m the android sent by CyberLife.”

There was a small twitch of movement, an aborted sigh, before Captain Allen answered. “It’s firing at everything that moves. Two of my men have already been shot down.” He made an aggravated motion. “We could easily get it, _but_ they’re on the edge of the balcony.” Turning, Captain Allen faced Conrad. “If _it_ falls, _she_ falls.” The Captain faced the coordinator and the computer once more, intent on discovering what they could reasonably do.

Conrad tipped his head in an attempt to appeal to the captain as he asked, “Do you know the deviant’s name?”

Frowning, Captain Allen shot back, “I haven’t got a clue. Why does it matter?”

Conrad was slightly taken aback. “I need information to determine the best approach. Knowing its name and model will make it easier to convince the android to cooperate,” he stated. It was important to Conrad’s programming to go into a situation with as much information as possible.

He _needed_ as much information as possible.

Captain Allen sighed, an action that Conrad’s programming labeled as ‘potentially agitated.’ He’d have to approach carefully if he wanted more information as he was going in.

“Did it experience an emotional shock recently? CyberLife’s studies have indicated that emotional shocks are the leading cause of deviant behavior in androids.” Conrad stayed calm, merely stating facts. If he could get through to the Captain, then perhaps everything would go smoothly.

 _If_ it could go smoothly, with a deviant holding a child hostage seventy stories above the ground.

Conrad drew back slightly as Captain Allen made a low, frustrated noise and turned to face him. “Either you take care of that fucking android _now_ , or I will.” His next words were all but growled. “The kid is the _only_ thing that matters.” Conrad gave Captain Allen a short nod, LED briefly flashing yellow. The LED ticked back to blue as Conrad watched Captain Allen stalk off.

A probability counter flashed in Conrad’s HUD, which he shut down immediately. He had to understand what happened, and he was on a time limit. That’s all he needed to know.

Pulling up his task list, Conrad reviewed it, sorting his tasks under two major headings – **_Understand What Happened_ ** and **_Save the Hostage at All Costs_**.

It seemed simple enough, but Conrad had learned in his very short existence that nothing was ever simple.

Once his LED had ticked over to blue, and his systems were restored to the base default, the RK900 panned his eyes over the penthouse again, noting the hostage’s bedroom, a disturbance in the nearby closet, and a trail of debris leading to the living room. The closet first, then the bedroom, for the sake of simplicity. _Then_ he could follow Captain Allen and the trail of debris and evidence to the living room.

Turning to face the closet proper, Conrad took a few steps over to it and knelt down, examining an open case on the floor.

 

 **MS835 BLACK HAWK**  
_Capacity: 17 rounds (.355 mm)_  
_Overall: 8.5”/Barrel: 5”_

 

Beside the case, a half empty box of bullets was scattered on the floor. Reconstruction only confirmed his suspicions that someone of roughly his height had pulled the case down, knocking other items out of the closet as well. Knowing that the deviant had a gun made it likely that the deviant was the one to have pulled the gun from the closet.

Making a tiny, self-affirming nod, Conrad stood once more, intent on going to the hostage’s bedroom next. _Investigate the Hostage’s Bedroom_ appeared on his task list under _Understand What Happened_ , and Conrad closed the list. The likelihood for success faded on his HUD as well, the RK900 having noted that the percentage had gone up, ever so slightly.

Pausing at the door to the hostage’s bedroom, Conrad noted that it was typical for a girl of Emma Philip’s age and socio-economic background. It was fairly tidy, which made sense given that the family owned a childcare android. His first glance was to take stock of the room, to get a feel. The second was to scan it. Giving the bedroom a more critical eye, Conrad noticed a set of headphones on the floor first, and a tablet on the desk that would likely have information.

The headphones were still playing music when the RK900 picked them up. The music was loud, loud enough to cover up the sound of gunshots.

Emma Philips couldn’t have heard the sound of the gun going off. She wouldn’t have known the android deviated until it was too late.

The desk that the tablet was on also had a picture frame on it that had been hidden by the chair. There were two people in the picture – Emma Philips and the android. A cursory look at the android’s uniform indicated that it was a PL600 model, an older childcare model. Setting the picture frame down, Conrad picked up the tablet, hacking his way into it.

He tapped his way through the tablet until he found a video that had a preview of both Emma and the deviant android. Clicking on it revealed the deviant’s name – Daniel.

Emma’s final words remained with Conrad, however.

 _“We’re going to be besties forever!”_ Emma had said in the video.

An emotional shock was looking more and more likely, though Conrad wasn’t sure what had been the tipping point. Conrad tipped his head as he thought, trying to put together pieces of the puzzle.

Something wasn’t quite adding up, and he set the tablet down where he found it, leaving the bedroom to look for more clues, ever conscious of the fact that time was running out.

Standing next to a screen splintered by a gunshot, Conrad surveyed the scene. There was some destruction in the living room that continued beyond the living room to the blood splattered windows past the kitchen. The living room provided the first corpse, as well as more SWAT determinedly watching the door to the penthouse’s patio.

Scanning the corpse revealed the victim to be John Philips, husband to the woman who’d been sobbing as she was being escorted out of the penthouse, father to young Emma, and owner of the deviant PL600. With the scan complete, Conrad started his Reconstruction programming, frowning slightly when the Reconstruction turned up incomplete. He paced around the corpse, Reconstructing from various angles until he’d gotten all of the details.

Philips had stood, startled by something, been shot, and stumbled backwards, and Conrad’s Reconstruction showed that _something_ had been flung as Philips had fallen. A light under an end table within the path of trajectory caught Conrad’s attention, and he stepped lightly over to it, discovering a blood-splattered tablet that Philips had thrown. Conrad didn’t bother wiping off the blood before he accessed the information on the tablet.

“Thank you for your purchase!” the tablet chirped cheerily. The final screen that Philips had been looking at on it was for an order for CyberLife’s current flagship model, the AP700.

The deviant was going to be replaced.

Conrad’s LED ticked yellow quickly, briefly, just long enough to cycle once before cycling back down to blue. He may have replaced the RK800, but it was _defective_ – the circumstances were different. Dwelling on the RK800 and its – his – _its_ simulated anger was useless, so Conrad shoved the memory back from his RAM into long-term storage. Perhaps Conrad would review what little information he had about the RK800 later, if he had time or the inclination.

Taking a simulated breath, Conrad placed the tablet back where he’d found it and stood from his crouch to take in the rest of the crime scene. He slowly prowled through the penthouse from the living room into the kitchen, following blood and thirium splatters. There was a second corpse in the kitchen, that of Officer Antony Deckart. Officer Deckart had been first on the scene, responding to the shots that had killed John Philips. Scanning Officer Deckart revealed that he’d died of a single shot to the heart. The officer’s hand had slight traces of gunpowder on it and following the direction of the splayed-out hand revealed Officer Deckhart’s gun. Briefly, Conrad toyed with taking the gun with him, even going so far as to picking it up to inspect it. An alert popped up in his HUD, however, reminding him that due to laws and restrictions, _androids weren’t allowed weapons._

With a frown, Conrad placed the gun back down on the floor under the chair where he’d found it. He was certain could handle this without shooting the deviant.

The deviant was on the patio, at the edge. If Conrad calculated incorrectly – which he _wouldn’t_ – the deviant would go over the edge and take its hostage with it. That was the exact opposite of what Conrad’s mission statement was, and Conrad refused to let it be an option.

Standing, Conrad wiped the train of thought away, a sense of calm settling into his frame. He knew roughly what he was going to do, but there was room in his plan to make changes.

Squaring his shoulders, Conrad faced the door to the balcony, going through when the SWAT member pushed the door open.

He was shot almost immediately, a bullet – likely from the missing gun – going through his shoulder and staggering him ever so slightly. A glance was all Conrad spared the wound, thirium staining his uniform jacket. From the glance, Conrad gave the penthouse’s patio a fast scan, checking out the area. An officer was bleeding out from a bullet hole and thirium stained parts of the patio leading to where the hostage was standing on the edge, but otherwise it was clear.

“Hi Daniel. My name’s Conrad. I’m here to get you out of this.”

The Deviant and the Hostage both paused, the Hostage in her struggling and the Deviant with a look in its eyes that Conrad couldn’t place. Maintaining a calm demeanor, Conrad took a couple slow steps forward.

“How – How do you know my name?” the Deviant yelled back, stuttering its apparent nervousness. Between that and its LED flashing a bright red, Conrad could easily tell its stress levels were rising dangerously high already and he was barely on the rooftop.

“I know a lot about you, Daniel,” Conrad said. He continued carefully stepping forward scanning the rooftop patio quickly. There was an officer bleeding out against the wall, and Conrad easily stepped over to him, still with an eye trained on the Deviant.

“Stop! Don’t move!”

“Daniel, he’s bleeding out. I merely want to help him.” Moving carefully and with exaggerated movements, Conrad knelt down beside the officer, sliding his tie off to use as a makeshift bandage. With one eye on the Deviant, Conrad tied his tie around the officer’s bullet wound, making sure not to fully cut off circulation. It would do no good to prevent the man from dying if he lost the limb in the process. Carefully, he stood, looking the Deviant in the eye. “See? That’s all I wanted to do.” Taking a deliberate step forward, Conrad watched as the Deviant shifted. It was still too tense, its stress levels too high. The hostage – Emma, Conrad had to remember that her name was _Emma_ – was also too distressed, tears in her eyes and blood seeping from a scrape on her leg.

The Deviant twitched aggressively as Conrad continued slowly stepping forward, prompting Conrad to freeze briefly. A poor reaction could set the Deviant off, could send _both_ of them over the edge, and allowing that to happen was unacceptable. Taking a couple more steps was acceptable, and yet Conrad froze again when a helicopter caused the Deviant to flinch ever closer to the edge. Conrad could visibly see the Deviant’s stress levels rise, and knew his own ticked a little higher as well.

Surely CyberLife wouldn’t deactivate him for one rocky mission, right? _Right?_

“Get rid of it!” the Deviant yelled, the hand with the gun going to cover an ear. Its stress levels were high – too high, high enough to cause it to do something even more drastic than shooting its owner and an officer and kidnapping its charge.

Unbidden, Conrad’s processors ran the likelihood of the Deviant just going over the edge and he immediately put those thoughts from his processor. He did not need to know the numbers, not when he could see it happening in front of him. The numbers were there anyway, telling him in no uncertain terms the likelihood of the Deviant slipping and falling and taking Emma with it.

That wouldn’t do.

That wouldn’t do _at all_.

Priming himself to run, to sprint at the Deviant, Conrad waved away the helicopter. “It’s gone,” Conrad tried to soothe, but the Deviant’s stress levels were still far too high for Conrad’s liking. Given how close Conrad was, and how stressed the Deviant was, Conrad made a decision that he would simply have to deal with when the time came.

Conrad _moved_ , surging into action and getting into the Deviant’s space, putting his hand on Emma’s arm and _tugging_ , pulling her out of the Deviant’s grip and giving her a slight shove onto the patio. The Deviant, startled, jerked back, losing its footing and falling backwards with Conrad still barreling into it.

The two androids went over the edge, Conrad closing his eyes so that the last thing that the upload would see wouldn’t be the seven hundred foot drop that awaited him.

He opened his eyes with a sharp intake of air, locking gazes with the Deviant, who’d grabbed his arm in the early part of the plummet.  The Deviant gripped Conrad’s arm with deceptive strength, and placed its hand on Conrad’s face, forcing open a connection. Conrad felt – _felt! –_ its betrayal, its _fear_.

There were memories, so many memories, of Emma, of playing with her, of watching over her, of keeping her safe. Conrad couldn’t stop the memories from being added to his backups, could only hold onto them as the two androids plummeted.

“I’m sorry, Daniel,” he said quietly, his grey eyes meeting Daniel’s stormy blue.

“You will be,” Daniel replied.

They landed with a sickening crunch just as Conrad’s systems finished their upload to CyberLife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Conrad Death Count:** 1  
>  **Achievement Get:** Ten months of patient waiting  
>  **Achievement Get:** On the Rooftop (Ready to Fall)  
>  **Achievement Get:** A Kidness

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again! If you wanna ask any questions feel free to comment or come visit [my tumblr](https://mydetheturk.tumblr.com) or [the tumblr for this fic](https://breakinghabitsmeltingchains.tumblr.com). I can't guarantee that i'll answer you right away, but i'll do my best!!!


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